Daughter of Goddesses, King of Kings
by Earendel
Summary: (AU) Because of Boromir, the ring was never destroyed. The Queens of the Valar decide to change the course of history, and create Rowan. Boromir/oc Bad summary, I know, better one before the prologue.
1. Prologue

Uhh. a summary is in order, I believe.  
  
So, this is kind of AU-ish. Well, it's totally AU, actually... Just a little heads-up.  
  
What if the ring wasn't destroyed? What if it was all Boromir's fault? What if the Queens of the Valar combined their beings and created a woman powerful enough to set history straight? What if she fell in love with the man she was supposed to guide, only to lose him, over and over again, by following orders? What if she took things into her own hands? What if you read this fic? *Gasp* Please do! Please review! (I swear I didn't mean for that to rhyme...)  
  
Daughter of Goddesses, King of Kings  
  
~Prologue~ Boromir had lost track of time long ago. All he was aware of now was the water bearing the small craft in which he rested along its unending course. The feeling of immense calm that had settled over him after the first few years of floating was seldom interrupted, but when it was, the interruption was vicious. The ring hadn't been destroyed. And it was his fault.  
  
Faramir had taken the ring, as he himself had tried to. The ring had taken control of him, and the lands had plunged into darkness once more. As he had watched the events unfold, the realization had come 'ore him slowly: if he had not tried to take the ring, the fellowship would have split up anyway, but the ring would not have been able to pray on his brother's mind in the way it had, telling him that if only "you're brother had had the power I can grant, he would have not been felled," and not to "make the mistake your brother did, letting this chance slip by..." The visions tore at Boromir's heart like claws of ice. He cried out to his brother, "Let Frodo do what he must! Let him take the ring into Mordor!" But Faramir did not hear, and all was lost as he slew the Hobbits, and slipped the ring around his finger. Again, the golden fog closed around his mind, cutting off the visions, and lulling back to sleep. Ages passed like days, and days passed like ages, until at last, Boromir could no longer remember what had happened, or even who he was. The last thing he remembered... oh that was too much thinking. He couldn't remember what he had been trying to remember.  
  
~*~ It was centuries after the fall of the Valar, the rise of Sauron, and the Kings of the Valar were long gone from the realm of Middle-Earth, and their Queens were greatly weakened by the strain of staying and resisting the power of Sauron. Long had they meditated on and spoken of in counsels the events that led up to the current state of events, all the while leaving the cause of their current grief in a state of half-life. It was Varda and Nienna who eventually decided on the way to change the course of events. They brought it before the others, and after much argument, they had created a form agreeable to all. Their vessel was to be, appropriately, a woman. An immortal, though not elf-kind, who stood as high as the chin of the cause of their grief, Boromir son of Denethor. Her eyes were to be the color of the clear skies, her hair the color of red gold, her skin the color of the newly opened lily, with a small shower of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose.  
  
The Queens of the Valar began to sing then, each pouring her power, her knowledge, and her very existence into this new creation. They sung as they had not sung since the creation of Arda. They sung this creature into being, and they sung themselves, as they were now into her mind. They sung time forwards and backwards, they sung until they could sing no more, and all was as it had to be.  
  
~*~ Here ends the prologue.  
  
What did you think? Like it? Tell me! Hate it? Tell me why! Don't care either way? I guess I won't hear from you!  
  
Ok, so that last bit was stupid, but oh well.  
  
The first chapter will be up soon, (and it will be longer) and Boromir will meet the creation of the Queens of the Valar! La! Should I keep writing it, or should I give up now? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please?  
  
BTW, will someone please tell me about Mary-Sues? I don't know what they are... 


	2. The Failures and the Sanctuary

Hello! *Hugs reviewers* Thank you soooooo much for reading! To Joan Milligan- La! First review!^_^ Thank you so much for the info on the Mary-Sues. I'll try and keep her from becoming a "textbook case" MS, my sincere apologies if I fail. BTW, thank you for reading, and for your confidence.  
  
To Trishette- Thanks a ton, for reading and for the info on MS's!  
  
To Daughter of Olorin- La, another Boromir fan! *Happy* Yes, if you want something done right, send a girl! ^_~ Thanks for the encouragement, and for the compliment! Tell me if my writing style gets OTT, though, could you? BOROMIR KICKS ASS! (But I would put Glorfindel as a close second! I love him so...)  
  
Ok, now the plot begins in earnest.  
  
Chapter One- The Failures and the Sanctuary  
  
"A person who is too nice an observer of the business of crowds, like one who is too curious in observing the labor of bees will often be stung for his curiosity." -Pope  
  
~*~ The fog, which had so long enveloped Boromir son of Denethor, cleared. It's clearing was a sudden as it's coming had been slow, and it left him in pain. Harsh, terrible, burning pain. Memory flared. The orcs, Marry and Pippin, the arrows, Aragorn asking him about Frodo, and the darkness. He groaned, the darkness threatening to close in again. He felt a hand on his shoulder, touch soft and gentle, and heard a sweet, saturated with fear, speaking in a tongue he could not understand, followed by a chorus of high sweet notes. Sleep consumed him like so many hungry beasts.  
  
~*~ Rowan walked through gardens of her home, gardens created be Yavanna, who had always favored the child more than the other goddesses had, save Nessa. The stranger had come again, and now she knew her mothers were lying when they said she had not seen him before.  
  
~Yavanna, I need to speak with you, sweetest of Mothers. I need to KNOW.~  
  
The trees in front of her shimmered, and Yavanna stepped from among their leaves and in to Rowan's line of sight.  
  
"What do you need to know, nin iell?" The goddess smiled benevolently at her. She new the girl annoyed by ineptitude with languages, and Yavanna never tired of watching her reactions when her Mothers used words of the elder tongues.  
  
"Please, mother, speak so I may understand you." The flesh of her cheeks brightened and her freckles were no longer visible.  
  
"Nin iell is Elven for my daughter. What do want to know?"  
  
"I know I have seen him before, mother. Many times. Who is he? Where is he from? Why is he-"  
  
"Ask him yourself, I'm sure he knows." Yavanna turned to leave.  
  
"I'M SURE HE DOESN'T!" Rowan's outburst had shocked her, but Yavanna seemed, if anything, pleased by it.  
  
"You are too much, nin iell."  
  
"YAVANNA!"  
  
"My daughter. He is a captain of one of the elder kingdoms, kept in life so that things may one be day be set to rights."  
  
"Set to rights? But mother, there is nothing wrong with this place-"  
  
"This is but a small corner of Arda, Earth, outside of this sanctuary, nin iell, my daughter, all is wrong."  
  
"Then the captain-"  
  
"He is the reason that things are as they are outside of your Little Kingdom."  
  
"And I think I've met him before-"  
  
"Because you have. Many times, as you said. That is what you want to know about, is it not, ni- my daughter?"  
  
"Yes, it is. Will you tell me, mother? Please?"  
  
"Ask Nienna." The goddess left without another word.  
  
~Nienna, what has been kept from me? What lies have been told?~  
  
A moment later, Nienna was beside her.  
  
"Nin iell, do you really need to know?"  
  
"Yes, no, I don't know. I want to know."  
  
"Then I shall tell you, much as it may grieve me."  
  
"Everything grieves you..." Rowan muttered under breath. Nienna replied with a sharp glance. She beckoned and Rowan came. The two seated themselves in a swath of thick, green grass surrounded by oak trees.  
  
"Now, nin iell, you shall know that which you ask of. It is a long story, and I doubt very much you will be glad of the knowledge when I have finished. Do you still wish to know?"  
  
"Yes, mother." Nienna sighed.  
  
"Very well, then, nin iell. You shall know. The story begins with the Forging of the great rings of power by Sauron, who made the twenty rings of power, nineteen for the free races of Arda, Elves, Dwarfs, and Men. The last ring was the one ring, the ring of power, which he forged in secret. It was a master ring, forged of Sauron's very essence, of his hatred, and his will to bind all life to him, to bring all of Arda under his control. The nine kings of mortal men fell to the power of their rings, and to their lust for the one ring. They became the slaves of Sauron, the Nazgul, ringwriaths.  
  
"At last, though, some rose against the power of the ring, an alliance of men and elves, who marched against the armies of Mordor, Sauron's poor imitation of Utumno, and won. Isildur, King of Gondor, who cut the one ring from the hand pf the dark lord, with his father's sword, struck the final blow of the battle. The one and only way to destroy the ring is to cast it into he fires of Mount Doom, where it was forged, but Isildur chose to take the ring for his own.  
  
"He was soon killed by a party of orcs, and the ring was lost to the world for many years, until, when the ring was no more than an ancient legend in the minds of the people of Arda, it was found by a creature named Gollum, who was once called Smeagol. He took the ring deep into the misty mountains, and it waited, consuming the creature and giving him and unnaturally long life. Eventually, though, the dark lord Sauron began to grow in strength, and rumors began to spread of the shadow growing in the east. The ring heard its masters call, and left Gollum, falling into the hands of a very unlikely person, Bilbo Baggins, a Hobbit of the Shire.  
  
"Bilbo took the ring back to the Shire with him, where again it waited, giving Bilbo long life as it had Gollum. Bilbo was friends with a wizard named Gandalf, who began to suspect that the little gold ring Bilbo kept with him at all times was more than a piece of jewelry. Once Bilbo used the ring to disappear at the end of his -- birthday party, and had been more than reluctant to leave the ring to Frodo, his suspicions were confirmed. He sent Frodo, with the ring to Rivendell, the home of Elrond.  
  
"Gandalf had discovered that Saruman, the leader of his order, had allied with the dark lord, and knew of the existence of the ring, and knew who bore it.  
  
"In Rivendell, there was a great counsel held, and the Fellowship of the ring was formed. Legolas Greenleaf Elven prince of Mirkwood, Gimli son of Glion, a dwarf, Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir son of Denethor, lords of Gondor, Gandalf the Grey, Samwise Gamgee, Meriodiac Brandybuck, Perigrin Took, and Frodo Baggins, ring bearer, were it's members.  
  
"The fellowship set out from Rivendell, and traveled for a while without trouble, but the peace did not last long. Sauraman used his arts to force them into Moria, where they faced Gothmorg the Balrog, and lost Gandalf to the fire and shadow. A bedraggled company of eight they continued onto Lothlorien, home of Galadriel.  
  
"From Lothlorien they set out by water for Amon Hen, from whence they planed to go into the land of shodow, but such was not to happen.  
  
"Boromir, the one who now rests yonder," she motioned towards the house, "had great a great want of the ring. It had planted the thought of itself in his mind like a sickness. He was convinced that if he brought the ring to Gondor, it could be used to destroy Sauron," Nienna's mouth twisted into what resembled a smile, "though many had told him it could not be done. Eru is not without a sense of irony.  
  
"Driven by desperation, Gondor was dying land, and his lust for the ring, he attempted to take it from Frodo by force. He failed, and lost his life to a band of orcs, who captured Marroiodiac and Perrigirn.  
  
"Frodo and Samwise parted from the company, and headed into Mordor alone. They were guided by Gollum, who led them through Gondor, where Boromir's brother Faramir, who was much grieved to learn of the death of his brother, found them.  
  
"The ring used Faramir's grief to prey on his mind in the most peculiar manner, convincing him of what his brother had believed, but more than that, that the power of the ring would set all that had gone wrong to rights again. The ring fed off his fear, grief, desparation, and insecurity until at last, he was under its control. He slew the Hobbits, and took the ring for his own. That was all the dark lord needed. Faramir used to try and kill the dark lord, but one of the southron's slew him, effectively placing the ring back in the hands of Sauron. Unable to stand against Sauron now that the ring was back in his hands, the armies of Gondor and Rohan, and of the dead, fell before the renewed strength of Mordor.  
  
"As the armies fell, so did the lands. Rohan, Gondor, Bree, the Shire, and other lands besides, all succumbed to the shadow. Sauron called to him the other servants of Melkor, who had not set foot in Arda for many an age. Faced with the might of the shadow, some of the Valar fled, others, like Tulkas, were forced to flee.  
  
"The other Queens and I went into hiding, and after many centuries of mediation and many counsels on the subject, created you. Your purpose was to make sure the ring was destroyed. Not an easy task, and harder even for you, while we kept you in ignorance. It may be that Yavanna and Nessa are- were-right, that you would have done much better had you been given free reign. "First, we sent you to Rivendell, a day before the coulsel of Elrond, and had you request that the Elven lord place another in Boromir's place. Elrond thought such would be foolery, as it would only rouse the young man's anger, and history repeated itself.  
  
"Next, we tried sending you to Lothlroien, to speak with the company, but it was already too late, and nothing changed.  
  
"Last, we sent you to Gondor, before Boromir left for the counsel, in the guise of a chambermaid. There were. interesting results."  
  
"Interesting? Mother, you don't mean-"  
  
"Indeed, I do. It seems your heart took control of your reason. It may be that that is the reason you remember him now tough you did not before. Now, then, nin iell, is there anything else you wish to know?"  
  
Rowan sat very still, knees drawn up to her chest, staring past Nienna, and for a long while she did not speak. Nienna stirred, and began to rise, when Rowan cried out-  
  
"WAIT!" Nienna sat down and stared at the girl, still and somber.  
  
"I do not... What you told me... I can not remember." Nienna nodded once, more to herself than in answer to Rowan's unvoiced, if asked, question. She placed her hands on Rowan's temples, and began to hum one pure, mournful note. Grey mist spread from her fingertips and formed a ring (A/N: please don't kill me, there's no pun intended!) around Rowan's head, covering her eyes, cutting off her breath. Rowan fainted.  
  
~*~ When she came to, Rowan felt very, very strange. It was as if the Rowan who had listened to Nienna tell her about the ring and who had fainted hours before no longer existed. She felt stronger now, and alone, the usual feeling of a guiding light gone. The clearing was dark and the air held a faint chill. Rowan shivered. Something was wrong.  
  
Wind blew through the leaves of the trees and the underbrush shifted, two dots of glowing yellow light appeared. The bushes rustled again and a giant wolf came forward, or at least, she thought it was a wolf, though it didn't look like any wolf she had heard of.  
  
It had a friendly face, more like a dog's than a wolf's; its fur, thick and shaggy, was a russet brown color. The creature padded forward, making various snuffling noises as it did so. Rowan found herself unable to move, though no t as frightened as she would have expected herself to be. The 'wolf' was now right in front her and lay down, snuffling around her ears. Nessa ran into the clearing.  
  
"What do you think of him?" Was the goddesses greeting.  
  
"What do I- Nessa, what is he?"  
  
"He is a gift."  
  
"A gift? From whom, may I ask?"  
  
"From Yavanna. He is quite the creation. Loyal till the last, he can take the shape of any of the kelvar, though only if you ask him to. He cannot do anything save defend and follow you unless you tell him to."  
  
Rowan stared at the creature before her- a creature that she had full and total control of.  
  
"But, Nessa, why did she send him?"  
  
"You will need him." The fleet-footed goddess replied, and dashed out of the clearing.  
  
~Great...~ Rowan thought, flopping back onto the grass. Yavanna's 'gift' shifted, it's position, so its nose was right by her ear, and sighed. Rowan leapt up, the clod wet feeling of the "Wolf's" nose and the rush of hot air had startled her.  
  
"You should go inside, young one, your guest may be awake by now," the soft voice came from right behind her, "and will most likely wish to know a thing or two about where he is."  
  
"Este!" Rowan got up as fast as she could, dusting off her skirt and turning round. "I am sorry to be so rude, but will you please tell me what's going on?" The healer smiled.  
  
"That is for you to find out. Come with me, child." Rowan did as she was told, trying to mimic the silent footsteps of the Valier before her, and, even in bare feet, failing miserably.  
  
~*~ When they reached the large, if not vastly decorated house, Rowan was starting to get very worried. Este had not quizzed on the various healing properties of the many plants they passed, nor had she received a lecture on one form of surgery or another. Not a good, Este's silence.  
  
Este led her to the large and well-stocked kitchen, located in a southern corner of the house, between the stairs that led to the cold cellar and the door that led into the pantries, one filled with all manner of dried food, the other with all manner of dried herbs, medicines, and bandages and surgical tools. Este began walking in and out of the pantries, gathering all manner of things, while Rowan watched in silence, and Yavanna's gift sat outside one of the glass doors, whining.  
  
"In case you hadn't noticed, your guest is wounded," Este began, arranging the things she had prepared on a tray, "and requires some medical attention. I trust you know what to do with these." She gestured to the tray, covered in several jars of slaves, rolls of bandages, poultices, a bowl of soup, and a large cup of a steaming liquid.  
  
"Yes I do, but aren't you going to help? And what is?" She pointed at the mug.  
  
"That," replied Este, "is mulled wine with an infusion of fumitory. You remember what fumitory is, do you not?"  
  
"Yes, it is an herb that relieves depression, but why would he-" Este stared at the girl, who suddenly felt cold. Like a flood, memory washed over her. "Ooohhh." She breathed. Este handed her the tray.  
  
"He will wake any moment now. Hurry."  
  
~*~ Boromir awoke in a most comfortable bed, a large four-poster surrounded by cream-colored curtains. He realized that he wasn't wearing what he had been the last time he had been awake. He was now dressed in white loose fitting cotton trousers and a loose tunic of the same material. The room was bathed in a pleasant light, streaming in through the open window on the opposite wall. The window itself was huge, covering nearly the whole wall. The panes swung outward and the curtains that obscured the cushioned the window-seat blew inward, fluttering in a light breeze.  
  
Boromir sat up, and immediately regretted it. Blood rushed to his head, and his visions blurred, pain exploding all over his body. He ignored the feeling and swung his legs over the side and pushed the curtain aside. His sword and shield, cleaned, were set on a chair on the other side of the room. With faltering steps he made his way across the room, fighting the dizziness that seemed to grow with each step. He reached the chair and grabbed the shield, unsheathing the sword and spinning around as he heard the door creak open.  
  
~*~ With steps as light and quick as she could manage, Rowan made her way through a maze of corridors, and up several flights of stairs, humming a small tune to keep her worries at bay. She couldn't quite place the song, but she remembered it to be one about love and wine, she stopped humming. After a few moments of listening to nothing but the sound of her feet on polished wood, she began to feel sick, and began to hum again. This time the tune was that of a song about a young girl who is married off by her family to a rich lord and then refuses to bed him. When she learns that her true love is leaving the country by sea, she runs away with him in the middle of the night. For a tale of such drama, the tune itself was remarkably light and happy.  
  
At long last she reached the door of the room she sought, and she felt rather nauseas. She turned and pushed the door open with her back, loath to attempt balancing the tray in one hand. Turning around again, she was greeted with a most unsettling sight. She screamed and dropped the tray.  
  
~*~ Boromir turned, sword and shield at the ready, as the door opened. A young woman entered, humming to herself. At the sight of him, she screamed and dropped the tray she had been carrying. His vision blurred and cleared several times, and the two regarded each other, Rowan frozen to spot with a mix of fear and shock, Boromir to dizzy and confused to attempt movement. He felt the world becoming distant, darkness moving to the edges of vision.  
  
Boromir son of Denethor felt his legs give way, and the shield and sword slip from his hands. As he fell forward, the world seemed to slow. He saw Rowan step towards him, and blood stain the carpet where she stepped on the shards of glass that had once been jars. He felt her arms wrap around him before he hit the floor, and his last thought before he slipped into darkness once more was that the girl was much stronger than she looked. He was not awake when knees buckled under his weight and she fell backwards, breath forced out her as the dead weight of his unconscious form fell on top of her.  
  
Rowan gasped for breath, pushing the broad man off her and pulling herself into a sitting position, so his head rested on her knees, before screaming for Este.  
  
~*~ Here ends the first chapter.  
  
In the next chapter: Rowan has more long discussions with the Valier, and Boromir wakes up! And he doesn't fall over when he tries to walk! Yay! ^_^  
  
What did you think? Like it? Tell me! Hate it? Tell me why! Is Rowan turning into a Mary-Sue? *Gasp* Please Review! I'll love you forever! Heck, you can flame me if you want to, just let me know you read it! Please! *Begs*  
  
Sorry it took me so long to post this, but the length of it played no small part in that occurrence! The pounds of math homework I've been getting didn't help either... At least my grades up to a B! *Waves flag half- heartedly* -_-; Ok, so it's not that good, but at least its' passing...  
  
Anyway, before I leave, a brief attempt at humor: You have just received the Amish computer virus. Since the Amish do not have computers, this is based on the honor system. Now please delete all the files from your computer.  
  
I don't want to insult the Amish, they kick ass. I love them. I just thought it was funny.  
  
Wow... Eight pages... 


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